Page 24 of Vortex

I think I have grabbed everyone who has entered the rec room and shared our good fortune. Vortex has lost a little of his original enthusiasm as all the brothers are teasing him about having his club name changed to things like ‘Cowboy’, ‘Rodeo’, ‘Horse’, ‘Roper’, ‘Spurs’, and even ‘Rawhide’. They just keep coming, and each one is chipping away at his mood, I can see this.

Officer Tanner arrives, and I have to be reminded that he is now called Twang when off duty. I mention that he and Pattie are getting quite close, and Vortex explains that they have a sibling relationship.

Barbara asks if I miss the restaurant, to which I laugh. “I miss some of the customers, but not the rest. The owner was an ass, only interested in what he could get from the female staff, and the staff were lazy and incontinent.”

“Incompetent,” says Vortex.

“That too! They tried to get the tips shared amongst all of us, and I refused to be a part of it. I earned far more than they did between them, and they knew that. I told them if they wanted to get better tips, they needed to up their flag!”

“Game,” adds Barbara. “Up their game.”

“The women didn’t like it that I refused to have anything to do with the owner, but it was their choice to sleep with him. They could have said no. That was why no one would stand up for me when that realtor and the witch of a mayor got me fired. They were happy to see me gone. Troie, all of them.”

“Bitches,” Vortex explains to Barbara, then frowns at me. “Wait. What do you mean Chris and the mayor got you fired? What has the mayor got to do with it?”

“They were sitting together. They came in together and sat together at the table. I told you this.”

“No. You told me you pushed Chris and his chair tipped over backwards, nothing about the mayor.”

“Get with the program, Vortex. She did Chris, the mayor, and the owner. In fact, she did Chris and the owner twice.” Barbara thinks this is funny, but my man grabs me to him, scoops me into his arms, and rushes to his Pres’ office. He kicks the door and when he hears “Enter,” rushes in, literally dropping me into a chair.

His eyes are wide when I rush in carrying Allegra. “Come bearing gifts?” He grins at Vortex.

“Yes, but not what you’re thinking. How much do you know about the night Allegra was fired from the restaurant, Pres?”

“Just what Cannon told me. There was an incident with this Chris guy and it got her fired. Why?” Pres looks from me to Allegra and raises his eyebrows at her.

“Tell him the whole story, Allegra. All of it.” Vortex sits in the chair next to mine and looks like the cat that just got the cream.

I start from the beginning and explain about the realtor and the witch, and the owner coming rushing over, everything. His Pres listens very attentively, I must say, and does not interrupt. When I am finished, he asks if there was anything else. When I say no, he leans back, touches his fingertips together and sits thoughtfully. I am not sure what he is thinking about, but when he slaps the table with his hand, I almost jump onto Vortex’s lap in fright.

“So that’s how that bitch got elected! We couldn’t understand how she had gone from so low in the polls to winning the election, well, now we know. Cottonwood Glades, via Chris, greased the skids and propelled her up there. It was their money that made her mayor, but what has she got to give them in return?”

“If she is the sindaca, the mayor, will she not be able to give them anything they ask for?”

“That’s not exactly how it works, but she could sway the town council in policy changes and policy implementation. She could help draft local budgets and laws, and she would certainly sign off on municipal contracts. I think we need to do some digging into the mayor and her dealings with Cottonwood Glades, though I doubt we’ll find a link we can use. They are far too clever to leave that door open. Vortex, get Bull in here and call Twang while you’re at it. I want his ass in here fast.”

“No need to call him, Pres. He’s in the rec room. Just give me a sec.”

Stepping to the door, Vortex shouts, “Bull, Twang. Pres’ office, now.”

They appear before Vortex returns to his chair, and both look concerned. Bull closes the door behind them and waits.

“The night Allegra got fired, the realtor was wining and dining with our new mayor. That sounds too coincidental for my liking. I want to know what the fuck is going on, and I want to know fast. If she’s going hand in glove with the likes of Cottonwood Glades, and if she’s dealing with Chris, then that’s who is behind this, I want to know what the endgame is. I want to know what she’s supplying for her election result, because they didn’t give it to her for no fucking reason.”

“I have a theory, but that’s all it is. I’m still digging and haven’t found a damn thing to make it any more than just a thought in my head,” Bull tells us. “Something Vortex said about money when we were talking the other day stuck in my head, and it’s been rattling around ever since. I just can’t find anything to show me I’m onto something.”

“Let’s hear it, and I’ll see if I can turn anything up from my end,” Twang tells Bull.

“What is a good way to get rich quick, illegally and can be done anywhere?” When we all look blankly at him, he states, “Money laundering. It doesn’t take a factory to produce, because it’s not like counterfeiting, and very often goes unnoticed because no one is running around with bags of cash. If Cottonwood Glades is in the business of cleaning dirty money, they’ll get a decent cut of the proceeds, and if they are as big as we think, we could be talking millions of dollars over the course of a working day.”

“It would explain why they’ve grown so big so fast. They don’t stay tied to the businesses they buy, so no link there, and real estate moves quickly when they want to get cash flow. From what I’ve seen, they get everything below market value. If they then sell at market value, they get that profit as well as their cut in the money laundered. I know someone at the Treasury Department. Let me reach out and see if we’re onto something.” Twang looks at the door, Pres nods, and he leaves.

I am sure I know what they are talking about, but have nothing valuable to contribute, so just sit quietly. This all seems like a script from a movie or TV series. You don’t think of these things happening on your doorstep.

“In Sicily, they would take Chris and his witch to a basement and make them talk. They don’t need all this cat-footing around.”

“Pussyfooting, and we’re not in Sicily, though it may come to that.” Pres gives me a smile, but it’s not a smile I’d want directed my way very often. I think he’s done it, and more than once.